


The Palette

by Filigranka



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anora projects a lot, Character Study, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gen, Relationship Study, Unreliable Narrator, apocrypha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: Andraste, Anora, Apocrypha; mix & match.
Relationships: Anora Mac Tir & Loghain Mac Tir
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3
Collections: Short August Medieval Exchange 2020





	The Palette

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inquisitor_tohru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/gifts).



As a child – taught to read early because her parents couldn’t have found time to do it for her and she’d loved books – Anora loved apocrypha’s about Andraste’s life. The signs of divine’s favour accompanying her birth, all the rainbows, rare celestial phenomena, flowers growing around her cradle and birds signing her lullabies. Her incredible wisdom, showed since the youngest age, speaking full, coherent sentences before her first birthday, understanding the speech of animals, gift for discussion and ever-warm, sympathetic heart.

Later, of course, Anora got more mature, serious education and realised the apocryphal tales were just these: tales, less even than myths of legends. The stories, created without any attempt at research and often even going explicitly counter-research, just to amuse the audience. A chapter to make you laugh, a chapter to make you weep, a chapter to make you hold your breath. Nobody cared if they resembled the truth – and that was why they were good for children and common people, to introduce and sustain the love of the Maker into their hearts. But rulers – rulers had to know better and focus their theological pursuits on proper, academic sources.

Still, reading apocrypha was a nice way to pass the time. And a one nobody would dare to deem improper. Silly, yes, some mages or Templars might call it so, but even they would never try to suggest the queen should have spent less time on religious pursuits, no matter their quality. They’d have much to say against reading secular, non-educational text, all the romanzas or chanson d’geste, so when Anora craved some lighthearted entertainment, complicated plots, beautiful and brave characters, and tearful scenes – she always grabbed one of her favourite Andraste’s apocrypha.

In time, she noticed which fragments, except the adventurous ones, really drew her attention – it wasn’t hard, these pages of the codices were completely worn out by now. The ones showing how normal, utterly normal Andraste’s family was. Especially her parents.

Especially her _father_. Yes, he was a leader, but what was some leader, dying too early to even get the consistent description, to The Maker?

For hours, Anora could read about parents being overburdened by the power and greatness of her daughter. The normal people facing the otherness of Andraste’s magnificent fate, her future sacrifice already foretold by her behaviour, her focus never really on the world, but the Ideal. All the animals Andraste took care of in these books, all the beggars she fed – they were just an exemplum, a path of signs, leading her to discovery of one true love. The masks, under which the Maker hidden, just for her. Truly, the love story as epic as Anora's father and Ferelden.

Oh, these poor parents on the pages, terrified when their year-old daughter speak of the compassion with the eloquence of the philosopher! How they suspected demonic meddling, how they beg her to hide her gift, to – let’s open Anora’s favourite “Path of Signs or Andraste’s Sacred Heart", thick volume, bound in leather and with boards made of silver – let the animals in the nearby forest die, instead of resurrecting them, because the natural balance got destroyed and they all starved. How they tried and tried to explain to their daughter what actual human emotions were, what was anger, jealousy, hatred, how her little, unworthy, treacherous (ah, of course, of course, Anora understood it so well) husband tried to speak to her of _love_. How their whole life was, at the end, pushed to the margin of Andraste’s great story so much the official, well-researched texts didn’t mention most of her family figures much, leaving them to crowd-entertaining bards and kids' imagination. No canticles, just gossips and the fantasy-based court of childhood friends and sixth cousins. Anora, too, had used to create dozens and dozens of them in her head, usually based on Ferelden notable families.

And she felt so deeply for them! Her father knew emotions, at least, but he might as well not, how little he let them drive him. His actions? Always for Ferelden. His life? A tale of glory and wonders, outshone only by his friend, the king – or not him, even, depending who you asked. His duty? Always coming first. His wisdom and cunning? Legendary. His family… Ha. His family’s story wasn’t finished yet, and Anora refused to be made into a footnote.

By her father – or by her husband. By her husband – or by her father. A seesaw, like the one on which, according to “Peregrinations or The Unheard Miracles of Andraste”, Andraste used to fly (after a proper blessing, no cursed magic involved, of course!). A seesaw. And it wasn’t so hard to balance between them, pitting them against each other if needed, ensuring her image as the guarantee of stability, safety and peace would be unthreatened…

After all, Andraste had been a woman, and the one who had been long thought to be barren. Anora took it as a sign that – no matter how much it would cost: a burn, a stake, a sacrifice, death – no man would ever steal her flame.


End file.
